


Promise

by Nesloga



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Just a bunch of wounded puppies, Senses stolen, or some other small animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:37:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesloga/pseuds/Nesloga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were the ones with weaknesses, with faults. But that was alright, because they had each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**_The Broken_ **

_Sight: Ryota_

Ryota had been born with sight; he remembers the beautiful blue sky, the dazzling green of summer grass, and the shining white of the full moon. He can easily recall the color of his front door, a cream shade with light edging, always welcoming because behind it was his family. His doting mother and caring father. 

He could see perfectly, his vision was spectacular even! It allowed him to find things to smile about; to feel happiness over. So every day a smile would light his face, a smile that brought him nothing but pain. 

Because he was handsome - some said he could have been a model with his looks! And his smile just enhanced that, making an attractive face truly stunning, something to fawn over. 

And it was.

Girls, young and old, swooned when he grinned; their hearts beating rapidly in their chests as he moved happily from class to class. Unaware of the danger he invited with his fair features. For humanity is a monster, a monster that puts on airs; pretending to be polite, kind, and caring. When really, it’s a ferocious beast. Ryota loses his eyes to this monster, to humanity and all its sin. A man that feels envy and jealousy, a petty man whose woman keeps straying, sees the looks she sends Ryota; sees the way her eyes haze over with lust. And he _hates_ , he hates the very ground that Ryota stands on.

So he plots.

Carefully spending day after day following Ryota, mapping his movements and finding the best time to attack the teen. He finds the perfect moment in the brief second that Ryota passes an alleyway on his was home. He dashes out, grabs the _menace_ that had tempted his woman, and runs. Taking the teen with him, a knife securely tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches his chosen area; a garbage dump filled with flies and rats, he attacks. Gouging out his eyes, taking away the thing that makes life beautiful for Ryota. Once he’s done, the evil man - the monster that is humanity, slinks away, leaving the teen he had wounded. 

The beauty of the world is stolen from Ryota with his sight, banishing his ever present smile. The world is dark, and he is blind.

_Hearing: Daiki_

Daiki could never hear well; the doctor said it had to do with the liquid that’s in the inner hollow of his ears, or, that’s supposed to be. Because he’s an ‘odd’ case, where it seems that his body won’t produce the needed liquid for hearing, that he won’t be able to hear _anything_ in a few years. Daiki received that news ten years ago when he was six, a child still, easily frightened by the prospect of _never being able to hear again._

He’s not ashamed to admit that he ran when he got the news; he ran from his home, his parents, his imminent failure. He ran for what seemed like hours, picking himself up when he fell, ignoring the stinging scrapes on his knees as he just tried to get away. 

By the time he stopped he had traveled close to five miles, or so his parents tell him - and he had ended up lost. With only a single flickering street light to guide him. The sun was setting, the moon was about to rise and Daiki _did not know where he was._

He panicked.

Yelling and screaming for help, startling the people surrounding him; the people that he couldn’t hear over his own shouts for his mother and father. A slightly older boy finally got him to be quiet when he roughly shoved a basketball in his hands, telling him to ‘stop squawking, kid’. And he did, Daiki was silent after that. Captivated by the ball in his tiny hands, faintly, ever so faintly; he could hear a _bump-bump_. A sound that quickly rose in noise as he bounced the ball, quickly understanding what dribbling was. 

Daiki found his solace in basketball, because that _bump-bump_ never left. Even as he got older and his hearing abandoned him completely, he could still hear that _bump-bump_ as the ball hit the ground. 

_Taste: Atushi_

Atushi lost his sense of taste when he was nine; it was an accident, like most things were at that age. He had been watching his mother cook, excitement running rampant as the food sizzled and bubbled. He had reached out a hand, hell bent on sampling the tender meat that his mother was cooking for dinner. When his mother glanced away he made his move, quickly grabbing a piece of meat and then scampering off to eat his prize. 

He had done this type of thing hundreds of times before with great success, after all, his mother never reprimanded him for it. In fact, she seemed more amused then annoyed, chortling behind her hand when she found him crouching behind a plant or chair munching on his stolen delicacy. So he kept at it, snatching food and then running off, happy to sample his food in advance.

But on that day, that terrifying day when he was nine; he failed at his quest for food. He acquired the succulent morsel easily; it was when he ran off that he messed up. At the age of nine he was growing, his limbs were turning lanky and he was shooting up like bamboo; if one word could describe him then, it was awkward. He tripped often and ran into things even more, and that’s what he did that day.

He ran into the plant that he was planning to hide behind, catching his foot on a rug his father had moved not a week ago. He fell with a crash, the plant being pulled down with him and his head cracking into the side of a coffee table with a sickening crack. 

He split his head open.

His blood stained the rug that his father had moved, the plant was poisoned with the crimson liquid, and he quickly lost conscious. He awoke with his mother crying over him, tear stains down her cheeks as she held his hand and whispered. Begging him to be alright, to wake up. 

He had to stay in the hospital for a month, his recovery was achingly slow; but, it was no where bad enough to break through the cloud of depression that hung around him like a persistent fog. For his fall had caused brain damage, nothing to severe his doctor assured his mother. It was a simple thing, he was lucky - all that had happened was that the nucleus of his solitary track was damaged. Meaning that he wouldn’t be able to taste anything anymore, but he was lucky the doctor insisted. It could of been worse, so much worse.

Atushi didn’t think so when he was nine, his one great love had been stolen from him, he could no longer taste the delicious foods of the world.

_Touch: Seijuro_

Seijuro was born with CIPA or Congenital Sensitivity to Pain. He was diagnosed with it when he was a mere babe of two, when he managed to crawl into a rose bush and kept going forward, even when the thorns dug into his tender flesh. His sister had panicked when she saw him, scrapes littering his small form and blood seeping out of the hundreds of scratches. She rushed him to the hospital, tears threatening to fall when he rubbed his eyes, unintentionally turning them red when he forgot to close them. 

His sister did cry when the doctor finally told her what was wrong, it took five trips and seven different tests, but they finally found out what was wrong with him. And it broke his sister’s heart.

He wouldn’t be able to feel, they said. He won’t know pain, they tried to comfort. It didn’t work though, his sister was studying medicine, she knew what him having CIPA meant. He could never be ‘normal’, he would have to constantly be careful. Checking for broken bones, lost teeth, scraped eyes, and an assortment of other injuries on a daily basis, just in case he hurt himself and didn’t notice. 

He avoided talking to her about his illness, it only made her cry. Instead he threw himself into hobbies. Shogi, Go, anything that involved strategy. He thrived when he played those games, feeling normal for once. Or, what he assumed was normal. He wasn’t sure, what he mainly felt was a slow burning rage in the pit of his stomach. It had been there since he was denied sports, denied the chance to show the cretins that were his classmates just how superior he was to them. 

That rage stayed with him, burning softly, and Seijuro had to wonder what would happen when that rage finally came out. What would happen?

_Smell: Shintaro_

Shintaro loved the smell of flowers; they reminded him of his dear grandmother who he would visit daily. His parents were busy people, so he was sent to his grandmother for the day. Her house always smelled of flowers; roses, daisies, you name it and her house had once smelled like it. She was his favorite person in the world, his mentor and guide in life. His best friend. So when she passed away he was devastated, only consoling himself with the scent of flowers. With the small reminder of his grandmother.

He stopped being able to smell things midway through his tenth year of life, it was ironic, in a way, because his horoscope said that Cancers would have terrible luck that day. He had been a frail child, but that hadn’t stopped him. He was headstrong, stubborn, and refused to believe in such a silly thing as ‘luck’. 

That was his downfall in the end, because he dared to challenge fate. And for that he was punished, his sense of smell was taken from him. The one thing that had brought him peace was taken. He could no longer smell spring with its many floral scents; he was deprived of that reminder of his grandmother. He dared to ignore a warning, and for that a treasure was stolen. 

He learned his lesson.

He checks his horoscope every day, feeling hope bloom (much like the flowers that surrounded his grandmother’s house) when it said that Cancer’s would have terrific luck; because somewhere inside him he still believed that his sense of smell could come back. But he was disappointed day after day, when all he got was strange looks and a feeling of discontent when he couldn’t smell anything. 

He refused to give up though; he read his horoscope religiously and made sure to have the lucky item on hand. Hoping that one day fate would restore his ability to smell. 

_—-_

_**The Glue**   
_

_Soul:_ _Tetsuya_

Tetsuya was broken. It was a fact that he couldn’t deny. He had been shattered sometime, he wasn’t sure when. But all he knew was that it had happened and that it had left him fractured in places that you should never be harmed. For his hurt went soul deep, bruising the part of him that made him  _Tetsuya_. 

That damage was irreversible, something that he could never heal. But it was okay, he didn’t need a perfect soul; because he had  _them_. 

His friends.

The people that had swore to stand together with him for the rest of their lives, the few people that could make the hurt lessen. 

They all met in middle school when they were eleven and twelve; they stumbled upon each other on the roof of the school where they all had their own reasons for coming to. They bonded on that roof, forming connections that would last a lifetime. Because they understood each other, because they were all broken somehow. But that was fine, for they helped each other. Making up for each others weaknesses. 

_“Kurokocchi! How are you today?”_

_“Tetsu, want to play some basketball with me later?”_

_“Try this, Kuro-chin, it’s supposedly pork flavored!”_

_“Kuroko…. Shogi?”_

_“Kuroko, today’s lucky item is a silver fish.”_

They were the ones who made him feel, something that he hadn’t been able to do since he was hurt. It was amazing to him, that five people could do such a thing. They were amazing, and they were a team;  _forever and ever, **promise**._


End file.
